


The Glowing Meteor

by Blanckat



Series: Petit CarolNat Series [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 13:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanckat/pseuds/Blanckat
Summary: What’s harder than to understand would be to be understood.In her long, almost numbing life, Natasha gave up on speaking, still couldn't stop feeling.





	The Glowing Meteor

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Shippers,  
This petit series was actually written before Endgame, which means THOSE NEVER HAPPENED.  
The part can be considered as a continuance of the last one, "A Brief Record by Carol Danvers", while also stands alone on the timeline.

** **■ ** ** ** **E********motional ** ** ** **E********xpression** **

"Given the number of enemies and the control of the hostages, we must carefully sneak in."

"You already got it," Carol replied.

In the early hours before dawn when Natasha first took Carol into action, the old bay area factory was sunk into a clear darkness. In the distance, two guards were curving up and down, left and right with torches between their guns. In front of her, the tall girl seemed impatiently hot-headed.

Natasha, embarrassed, hesitated to remind her: "... Which means we can't be exposed."

"Well," Carol said with a puzzled look, "Okay."

"That is to say... Can't be seen."

"... So?"

The Captain remained confused to tilt her head.

"Danvers," Natasha could only frown, "you're kinda, glowing."

"Oh shit."

Natasha Romanoff first discovered the fact that Carol Danvers glows in some certain situations.

Ever since the disaster that wiped out half of lives, sleep rarely came as guest to her nights. At such times Natasha would throw herself into the training room and smash the sandbags; Rub the messy hair, lean on the window sill and kiss the glass bottle mouth repeatedly. Sometimes she saw a flash of golden light shooting up into the air and, drunk and figured that might be Captain Marvel playing a meteor.

Soon enough Natasha knew that her worries before were unfounded. Captain Marvel, who rushed into the factory, blowed them all up before the enemy can find the two of them. After sending the hostages away, she waved her hand triumphantly to blow a wall apart. Then, with her hands in the pockets, she invites her to the harvest.

"Do you always glow when you're in combat mode?"

"Ah? There is no such thing. Most of the time it stands for emotions, I guess."

"And you just glowed because...?"

"Because," Carol said, clearing her throat twice, hiding her embarrassment, "because I was kinda nervous."

Natasha gave a little groan and walked briskly for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, she turned around -- "what if I suddenly startle you?"

"Agent Romanoff," Carol said in a serious tone, "I sincerely suggest you not to try."

** **■ ** ** ** **A Friendly Visit** **

As an Avenger, Natasha doesn't have any special power to show off, and it's not uncommon for her to bring home bruises and bruises everywhere. She never complained about it, didn't think anyone would even care. After all, they were in a line of work where it’s a norm to break arms and blind eyes.

When the violent knocks hit on the door, her whole body was in pain like soaking in boiling water.

"Who’s there?"

"It's me. Carol. Carol Danvers."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she tried to keep as still as possible.

"I don't feel like getting up to open the door, Danvers, even if you broke it. "

Some iron plates that had once been a door lock bounced mourningly against the wall.

She just hoped that Carol had brought her a mission, in that case at least the door lock had not been sacrificed for nothing.

In saying that, Natasha sometimes wondered.

People tend to think she’s good at seeing inside hearts. In fact, it is not, but when you had listened long enough, you’d find that the world is always singing repeatedly.

There’s something about the blonde girl who would fly off like a meteor in the middle of the night, descend from the sky crashing meetings, when playing with a film camera.

Their encounters are not frequent nor random.

Whenever Carol on her motorcycle waits at the same intersection with her --

"Morning, Danvers," says Natasha, rolling down the car window, to receive a sly, sidelined smile and a raised eyebrow -- an expression of indifference to all things.

Everyone joins them for a reason. Natasha had always felt that the greatest danger of a hero was not to find a reason.

On this certain day when Natasha should have insisted on not moving an inch from her bed, instead of accepting the breakfast, or lunch, or any other meal that suited the time that she brought her.

Carol sat on her windowsill and flipped the empty bottles there, glancing her in the face from time to time with a sense of ineffable negativity in her eyes. The paper bag on the round table gave off a scent, and Natasha looked up and stared for a moment at her awful self in the mirror. Her hair, which had been ungroomed for too long, was red and blonde in a state of embarrassment.

"I must look funny."

Carol shook her shoulder nonchalantly. "you look just fine."

Later, in a tepid conversation, they ranged from whether Carol exercise and if she’d ruin an entire gym while exercising to whether she had chain burger store as a child. The blonde one was quiet for a moment before saying that she guess she didn't have much luck as young.

Licking the sauce off her lips, Natasha smiled and apologized for bringing up the subject of age. Dealing with a cup of coke, sitting opposite to her, Carol stayed still. It was not until Natasha was almost finished with the food in her hand that she broke out in a soft voice --

"I was born in the 60s and left earth in my twenties. As to whether I won't age over time -- who wouldn't want that -- I can't draw any conclusions. It feels like only been a few years after I left the galaxy. On earth in the other hand, twenty-three years?"

"You really aren’t a fan of old ways of trying to figure each other out."

Natasha raised her eyebrows and wondered when did she display her intention on her face.

"Natasha, I beg you. Please don't try to find a reason to get me talking to another captain just because I can't give up on using a film camera."

They laughed for a while and then fell into a short, comfortable silence. Natasha, taking time to gather up things she had at hand, and to poke at her swollen and aching collarbone, was about to give a little sigh.

"You know... I have no malice against your door lock, "said Carol, standing up and leaning back against the window. She also pinched a corner of the curtain with her left hand, letting a beam of orange sunlight slip into the room and circle around the black widow's deep green eyes. "Please don't look at me like that.”

Useless trying -- Natasha captured the light more than that came from the sun.

It was one step to a perfect dusk, a delicate time when the sun had set and crime and malice creeps in. She contemplated fetching two glasses with a bottle; Fine whiskey, not those cheap vodka with water.

** **■** ** ** **After Thoughts ** **

In a sense, Natasha Romanoff and Carol Danvers became close -- even if the relationship between Black Widow and Captain Marvel remained delicate.

Black widow bewares of anything illogical.

When the Hulk finally showed up, he was ****furious****.

He unleashed his fury on the world on every wall of their base, on the land outside New York City, and on Captain Marvel, who tried to stop him.

Considering that the presence of a stranger only aggravates The Hulk's irritability, the Avengers hid carol underground, only to see a flash of light break through the wall, which freaked them out. Captain Marvel flew around the big guys, presumably thinking of a way to stop him without blowing him up.

Exasperated and irritated, The Hulk grabbed carol like an insect and smashes her on the ground until the Black Widow broke in there at the end of her wits .

The Hulk looked from side to side at the destruction of New York City with a sorry look on his face, then watched the girl in that red and blue battle suit, still glowing faintly. He wiped the blue blood from her head with his huge forefinger, looked sadly at Natasha, and then shrank slowly.

Carol recovered with astonishing speed, while Natasha was trapped by nightmares for days.

In those dreams, a glowing meteor, sometimes due to a childish dispute, flies to the depths of the universe at a speed that no one can catch up with. Other times, she went to the rescue alone because of a message that seemed to come from Tony.

Different plots mostly end in similar endings. Natasha was always forced to see her comrade lose her light for something that she has no reason to protect, and fall cold away, light years away.

Fearlessness, as she knew, was not bravery. It’s naiveness, or indifference.

**■ Her Cat**

Only one week after the Hulk-incident, Natasha found herself waking up in a strange scene because of an unexpected mission failure. Reflexively, she groped under the pillow, unable to find the modified strychkin pistol.

She remembered the explosion and the bullet that hit her calf. Now the familiar brown jacket was perched on a wooden chair nearby, and a cat squatted and stared thoughtfully at her wound. In a call from Steve Rogers, Natasha was told, and in a word -- Captain Marvel covered most of the damage for her.

She slipped out of Carol's room and followed by her cat one step away until she stopped on a mahogany trail.

In those past long years of running and hiding, vagrancy and thirst companied her through similar situations: scared body hidden in a dark coat with an exhausted soul, and she would stop and stare sulkily at the warm light on the frosted glass when she heard the laughter and the clashing of cutlery from some dusty walls of one of the cottages she passed.

Natasha had felt a great rage in her youth. The red house always said that anger stems from the fear of losing, so she overcame it by losing everything. Afterwards, only the shell was left.

Natasha bent down and caught the cat's hairy neck in her hand.

"How are you doing, Goose?"

The cat licked and licked its paws lazily, eventually stretched and spilled out a pistol, a stun stick, her Widow's Bite and a phone -- all those gooey stuff she thought she had lost in the explosion.

"Eww... Gross."

-Carol's voice of disgust.

"Don't act like a prowler."

"Same to you, Natasha. I was just out to grab some food." She picked up the cat and smiled brightly. "but -- then I changed my mind. I remember a wonderful place. Please go here."

Carol typed the address into Natasha's phone and threw it into her arms.

"Louisiana, seriously?" She tried to drive the absurdity out of the person's head with a cold voice and a hard stare, but she didn’t even mind.

"Turn around, your jet is over there. That's my way of apology."

Right. Their ****last scramble for transport**** did not turn out to be a happy one.

"Can't you just fly me there?"

"Because --" Carol lifted her mouth. "someone said it hurt to be flying while caught under the armpits."

"Shut up."

"My patience is part of my superpower, so you can take your time."

"Danvers."

Natasha called her name again seriously.

"If you're gonna feel lonely on the way --"

Carol picked up Goose with both hands and rubbed its little nose against Natasha's face.

** **■ ** ** ** **M********onica's** **

About two hours later, the sound of cicadas permeated the early summer night in the south.

Natasha threw the cat and herself down the hatch. The cat gave a low "whoop" as it hit the ground and stumbled along with her through the wet grass.

Under a concrete roof, Carol, eating ice lollies, waved at them. Her coat was tied around the waist, and her arms, outlined by the black waistcoat, were in beautiful shape. Goose flew up on her shoulder, and she waited for Natasha to approach, and then put a home-made cookie into her mouth.

"This is my friend Monica. And her children -- come here, Demi and Ash."

It’s THE famous Black Widow, so she said, introducing Natasha back to the Louisiana family.

While Monica prepared dinner, Natasha leaned back on the blended sofa, fiddles with toys with excited children and was forced to sign Ash's Avengers book with a watercolor pen. She had never done such a thing before and, thinking hard about it, wrote down two words "BLACK WIDOW" in bold print at last.

Carol stood with her hips on the edge of the table, fondly stroking the cat's head. A long time later, the family casually mentioned that they had happened to be on the town during the New York battle, huddled by the window of their hotel room and watched as she and Hawkeye pushed back robots as they tried to get closer.

You were their lifesaver, Carol said seriously.

Natasha nodded, knowing that she was trying to make her feel better somehow. Some doubts were beginning to unravel.

They were generously served macaroni with cheese, Fried cod fillets, homemade toast and even chocolate cake. It was true that she had not eaten anything decent for so long that she relaxed her nerves from the inside out.

While Carol and children went to see the jet, the wounded stay inside to help Monica clear the plates and chat idly. Monica was a black woman of their own age with a warm smile and beautiful curly hair.

“Does she come here often? "Asked Natasha.

"After back to earth, yeah. But it was the first time she had brought anyone else. I was even a little surprised." Monica paused. "don’t get me wrong, it's not that you're not welcome. It's just... I think Carol is still in the middle of coming to terms with the fact that ****she****'s no longer here."

"She?"

"Her best friend," Monica said, shaking her head. "Carol made a promise. Came back only to find herself facing twenty-three years of space time lag; with Maria, my mother, gone in the disaster. Carol is like our family, except I can't call her an aunt anymore, other parts haven't changed."

"That's the reason why Danvers... "Natasha murmured to herself.

"She's annoying, my mother always said so." Monica seemed to know what she meant, sneering at the memory for a moment. "She was always more powerful than anyone. Is not good at showing weakness to others. So Miss Black Widow --"

"Natasha. My name is Natasha."

"Natasha, I'm afraid she brought you here because she wanted you to see it."

"Very hard to understand, " she said, smiling.

After prime-time TV programs was over, the surrounding lights began to go out one by one.

All the members present, except the cat, were arrayed at the door in order to keep Natasha for the night.

Natasha kissed Monica and the children on the cheek, put one hand in her coat pocket, and slightly waved the other in front of Carol's face as she prepared to leave. Goose also set up its small body.

"Nat."

Carol called to her in a soft voice.

She turned, and the blonde merely looked at her, the corners of her mouth slightly turned down, and the concern in her eyes was raw and obvious. Natasha thought a bit and put her arms round her.

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

The embrace between girls ended easily and neatly.

Demi caught up with Natasha by the sleeve and waited for her to bend over her ear.

"It’s the first time I saw aunt Carol glow when she hugs!"

"I know," Natasha whispered back.

"Fly safe."

Carol said from a distance.

“Good night, Carol.”

She smiled.

Now that the glowing meteor that flew away at night was no longer a mystery.

Goose yawned and followed slowly.

This little monster... didn’t seem to like the sky of Louisiana.

—TBC—

**Author's Note:**

> Until the next time  
Leave any comment if you may :)


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